Praying to Portraits: Audience, Identity, and the Inquisition in the Early Modern Hispanic World

By: Lisandra Estevez, Winston-Salem State University, United States.

Adam Jasienski’s study offers an innovative and novel examination of how portraiture and religious imagery intertwined in the early modern Hispanic world, challenging the dominant view that these artistic domains were separate. This innovative study upends the scholarly separation of these two artistic domains, revealing the fundamental uncertainties and ambiguities that characterized visual culture across Spain, its vast American territories, and even parts of Asia. These complexities were further intensified by the strict dictates of the Roman Catholic Church and the pervasive influence of the Inquisition. Jasienski meticulously demonstrates how principles of representation and divine manifestation, alongside occasional demonic influences, were not opposing forces but complementary elements that profoundly shaped the spiritual consciousness of the era.

The book’s expansive geographical scope is central to its originality. While focusing primarily on Mexico and Spain, this study also incorporates examples from major viceregal capitals like Bogotá and Lima, with brief references to Asian centers. This broadened perspective is not merely descriptive but fundamental to the book’s argument, illustrating the widespread nature of the conceptual links between portraiture and sacred iconography in early modern Spain and viceregal America. By moving beyond Eurocentric viewpoints, Jasienski emphasizes that these cultural interactions were integral to artistic and devotional practices in both the Iberian Peninsula and its colonial spheres.

Organized into four chapters, an introduction, and a conclusion, the book presents a series of compelling case studies that substantiate the author’s central claims. The introduction establishes how individual likenesses across the early modern Hispanic world, and indeed broader Catholic Europe, frequently merged with religious iconography—a phenomenon the author terms “sacred portraits.” Jasienski argues that these artistic creations were far from peripheral; they were central to the period’s artistic sensibility. He persuasively links their emergence to the Council of Trent’s pronouncements and an inclination to depict religious figures in human form. The author proposes that integrating sacred elements imbued personal depictions into images with broader spiritual resonance, even as this fusion sometimes generated tension with established artistic conventions. The study also re-evaluates the Spanish understanding of a “portrait” by challenging the long-held perception of Spain and its viceroyalties as rigidly controlled by the Inquisition, emphasizing instead the malleable nature of these potent, often overlooked, visual forms.

Chapter 1 opens with a striking case study: the purported demonic possession of nuns in the convent of La Encarnación Benita in 1628. This context immediately introduces “a larger consideration of the anxieties about the convoluted relationship between portraiture, likeness, and religious art that permeated the period”¹. It also presents Jasienski’s concept of portraiture a lo divino, drawing on Emilio Orozco Díaz’s theories. This mode depicts an individual as a saint or holy person. Jasienski challenges traditional interpretations, suggesting that such practices primarily conveyed sacred monarchy or reflected piety. Instead, he examines the intricacies of these “a lo divino portraits” in Iberian global art, analyzing societal apprehension surrounding the fusion of recognizable resemblance with religious symbolism. He outlines specific criteria for identifying these works: explicit religious iconography or context; a recognizable, non-saintly individual; intentional depiction; and original coexistence of portrait and devotional elements. A key argument is that these images, particularly those of royalty, were not primarily for self-aggrandizement but served as instruments for personal devotion and spiritual introspection, reminding viewers of human fallibility and encouraging self-effacement, a concept deeply rooted in the era’s spiritual disciplines. The chapter includes a rigorous analysis of Juan Pantoja de la Cruz’s Annunciation with the Portrait of Margarita de Austria (ca. 1605, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna), exploring how such art defied linear time by placing contemporary figures in ancient biblical narratives. The text also addresses significant ecclesiastical criticism, which viewed the blend of sacred and secular as potentially blasphemous. Despite prohibitions, these portraits were widespread, though often privately commissioned, underscoring the dynamic nature of identity and representation in early modern Catholic visual culture.

Chapter 2 critically examines the vera effigies, or “true portrait,” exploring the seventeenth-century understanding of authentic depiction in the global Iberian world. The Andalucian cleric Juan de Acuña del Adarve posited that a truly genuine portrayal required both resemblance and the explicit intent to create that specific likeness. The most revered images were acheiropoietic, believed to be divinely originated, such as the Mandylion of Edessa or Veronica’s veil bearing the imprint of Christ’s face. Ranking below these depictions were portrayals of the Virgin Mary and various saints, revered despite not being divinely created. The text investigates the intricate link between portraiture and verisimilitude, noting a shift in the later seventeenth century toward a more objective understanding of verism. Intriguingly, contemporary literary examples suggest that highly accurate portraits could blur reality and artistic fabrication, implying an almost deceptive precision. The author explores factors influencing a portrait’s claim to truth through case studies of Saint Benedict, Saint Ignatius of Loyola, and Saint Teresa of Ávila. While a “true portrait” was considered the most authoritative image, its assertion of authenticity paradoxically rooted it in its own time. The Jesuit order pioneered the global proliferation of modern “true portraits,” particularly of its founder, Ignatius of Loyola. Despite difficulties in achieving exact posthumous portrayals, legalistic language was used to assert legitimacy. While debates surrounding Ignatius’s portrayal highlight the subjective nature of reality, “the truthful” consistently served as a foundational principle for early modern Catholic representation. This chapter also touches on the “virtue of imperfection” in some true portraits and the fascinating example of Saint Teresa’s adaptable images, which sometimes deviated from her precise likeness yet remained recognizable through consistent depiction within her order’s iconography. The chapter concludes by underscoring the inherent mutability of veracity within these sacred images, influenced by both divine inspiration and human intervention.

Chapter 3 meticulously examines the practice of altering existing portraits, exploring how likenesses transformed over time and the specific circumstances leading to their reinterpretation as sacred images. It carefully demonstrates the fundamental instability of portraits as visual forms, readily acquiring new significance often divergent from original intentions. The debated likenesses of the controversial Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, bishop of Puebla de los Ángeles, serve as a compelling illustration of the porous nature of visual representation in the seventeenth century. Modifying existing portraits by adding recognizable attributes was widespread, vividly showcasing the blurred boundary between the secular and holy. This re-contextualization, often driven by a desire to elevate individuals to sainthood, reflects a pervasive cultural phenomenon. Artists and patrons routinely refashioned portraits to align them with religious imagery, destabilizing their initial function. From practical re-use to devout veneration, this practice was common for “true likenesses” of recently deceased figures who were revered for their sanctity. The profound power of these modified images, even if fictively created, lay in their ability to evoke genuine spiritual connection. Moreover, the book emphasizes the polyvalent and permeable nature of portraiture throughout the early modern period. This fluidity was further complicated by diverse social perspectives within the vast Spanish empire; audiences from varying backgrounds often interpreted the same images distinctly. For example, the hermeneutical implications of the Nahuatl word teixiptla (“someone’s representation or substitute”) for image making broaden the study to include Indigenous viewpoints on portraiture. The very definition of a “portrait” thus varied significantly across regions, cultures, and individuals. Despite official attempts to control or forbid specific images, like those of Palafox, their inherent plasticity allowed them to transcend limitations and function effectively in both secular and sacred spheres.

Finally, Chapter 4 intently focuses on Spanish royal portraits, investigating the king’s image as a crucial link between religious and portrait art. Jasienski compellingly argues that Spanish royal portraits, even those lacking typical regalia, possessed an intrinsic capacity to function as deeply revered images. This extends the book’s broader thesis: that early modern communities frequently engaged in what the author calls “praying to portraits.” The analysis delves into how royal images, through staging ceremonial presentations, framing using baldequins, and widely circulating across the viceroyalties, served as powerful symbolic proxies for the monarch himself, to elicit profound reverence and obedience from viewers. The author highlights the singular power and captivating presence of these royal depictions, even exploring how a contemporary play vividly illustrated that an individual’s character could be judged by their reaction to the king’s painted image. The conclusion of Praying to Portraits illuminates a significant paradox within Catholic societies, particularly in the Hispanic world: the gradual separation of portraiture from sacred art occurred precisely when the Inquisition sought to protect hallowed imagery from perceived contamination by the profane. Despite these institutional efforts, the portrait’s inherent mutability persisted. This enduring flexibility underscores the portrait’s remarkable capacity for evolving meaning, resolutely defying rigid categorization. Jasienski’s extensive archival references and rich primary sources provide a robust foundation for his arguments, and excellent color illustrations significantly enhance the book’s complex arguments. In sum, this publication redefines our understanding of premodern visuality by demonstrating the profound interplay between the sacred and the secular in portraiture. I hope this study will inspire future avenues of research.

1.  Adam Jasienski, Praying to Portraits: Audience, Identity, and the Inquisition in the Early Modern Hispanic World (The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2023), 22. ↩︎